Henty George Alfred
With Kitchener in the Soudan: A Story of Atbara and Omdurman
"And where is the pocketbook, now?"
"It may be under the rock where I hid it, my lord. I have never thought of it, since. It was rubbish."
"Can you take me to the place?"
"I think so. It was not far from my house. I pushed it under the first great rock I came to, for I was in haste; and wanted to be away before the white soldiers, on camels, could get here."
"Did you hear of any other things being hidden?"
"No. I think everything was given up. If this thing had been of value I should, perhaps, have told the sheik; but as it was only written papers, and of no use to anyone, I did not trouble to do so."
"Well, let us go at once," Gregory said, rising to his feet. "Although of no use to you, these papers may be of importance."
Followed by Zaki and the four men, Gregory went to the peasant's house, which stood a quarter of a mile away.
"This is not the house I lived in, then," the man said. "The white troops destroyed every house in the village; but, when they had gone, I built another on the same spot."
The hill rose steeply, behind it. The peasant went on, till he stopped at a large boulder.
"This was the rock," he said, "where I thrust it under, as far as my arm would reach. I pushed it in on the upper side."
The man lay down.
"It was just about here," he said.
"It is here, my lord. I can just feel it, but I cannot get it out. I pushed it in as far as the tips of my fingers could reach it."
"Well, go down and cut a couple of sticks, three or four feet long."
In ten minutes, the man returned with them.
"Now take one of them and, when you feel the book, push the stick along its side, until it is well beyond it. Then you ought to be able to scrape it out. If you cannot do so, we shall have to roll the stone over. It is a big rock, but with two or three poles, one ought to be able to turn it over."
After several attempts, however, the man produced the packet. Gregory opened it, with trembling hands. It contained, as the man had said, a large number of loose sheets, evidently torn from a pocketbook, and all covered with close writing.
He opened the book that accompanied them. It was written in ink, and the first few words sufficed to tell him that his search was over. It began:
"Khartoum. Thank God, after two years of suffering and misery, since the fatal day at El Obeid, I am once again amongst friends. It is true that I am still in peril, for the position here is desperate. Still, the army that is coming up to our help may be here in time; and even if they should not do so, this may be found when they come, and will be given to my dear wife at Cairo, if she is still there. Her name is Mrs. Hilliard, and her address will surely be known, at the Bank."
"These are the papers I was looking for," he said to Zaki. "I will tell you about them, afterwards."
He handed ten dollars to the native, thrust the packet into his breast pocket, and walked slowly down to the river. He had never entertained any hope of finding his father, but this evidence of his death gave him a shock.
His mother was right, then. She had always insisted there was a possibility that he might have escaped the massacre at El Obeid. He had done so. He had reached Khartoum. He had started, full of hope of seeing his wife and child, but had been treacherously massacred, here.
He would not, now, read this message from the grave. That must be reserved for some time when he was alone. He knew enough to be able to guess the details–they could not be otherwise than painful. He felt almost glad that his mother was not alive. To him, the loss was scarcely a real one. His father had left him, when an infant. Although his mother had so often spoken of him, he had scarcely been a reality to Gregory; for when he became old enough to comprehend the matter, it seemed to him certain that his father must have been killed. He could, then, hardly understand how his mother could cling to hope.
His father had been more a real character to him, since he started from Cairo, than ever before. He knew the desert, now, and its fierce inhabitants. He could picture the battle and since the fight at Omdurman he had been able to see, before him, the wild rush on the Egyptian square, the mad confusion, the charge of a handful of white officers, and the one white man going off, with the black battalion that held together.
If, then, it was a shock to him to know how his father had died, how vastly greater would it have been, to his mother! She had pictured him as dying suddenly, fighting to the last, and scarce conscious of pain till he received a fatal wound. She had said, to Gregory, that it was better to think of his father as having died thus, than lingering in hopeless slavery, like Neufeld; but it would have been agony to her to know that he did suffer for two years, that he had then struggled on through all dangers to Khartoum, and was on his way back, full of hope and love for her, when he was treacherously murdered.
The village sheik met him, as he went down.
"You have found nothing, my lord?"
"Nothing but a few old papers," he said.
"You will report well of us, I hope, to the great English commander?"
"I shall certainly tell him that you did all in your power to aid me."
He walked down towards the river. One of the men, who had gone on while he had been speaking to the sheik, ran back to meet him.
"There is a steamer coming up the river, my lord."
"That is fortunate, indeed," Gregory exclaimed. "I had intended to sleep here, tonight, and to bargain with the sheik for donkeys or camels to take us back. This will save two days."
Two or three native craft were fastened up to the shore, waiting for a breeze to set in, strong enough to take them up. Gregory at once arranged, with one of them, to put his party on board the steamer, in their boat. In a quarter of an hour the gunboat approached, and they rowed out to meet her.
As she came up, Gregory stood up, and shouted to them to throw him a rope. This was done, and an officer came to the side.
"I want a passage for myself and five men, to Abu Hamed. I am an officer on General Hunter's staff."
"With pleasure.
"Have you come down from the front?" he asked, as Gregory stepped on board, with the five blacks.
"Yes."
"Then you can tell me about the great fight. We heard of it, at Dongola, but beyond the fact that we had thrashed the Khalifa, and taken Omdurman, we received no particulars.
"But before you begin, have a drink.
"It is horribly annoying to me," he went on, as they sat down under the awning, and the steward brought tumblers, soda water, some whisky, and two lemons.
Gregory refused the whisky, but took a lemon with his cold water.
"A horrible nuisance," the officer went on. "This is one of Gordon's old steamers; she has broken down twice. Still, I console myself by thinking that, even if I had been in time, very likely she would not have been taken up.
"I hope, however, there will be work to do, yet. As you see, I have got three of these native craft in tow, and it is as much as I can do to get them up this cataract.
"Now, please tell me about the battle."
Gregory gave him an outline of the struggle, of the occupation of Omdurman, and of what might be called the funeral service of Gordon, at Khartoum. It was dark before the story was finished.
"By the way," the officer said, as they were about to sit down to dinner, "while we were on deck, I did not ask about your men. I must order food to be given them."
"They have plenty," Gregory said. "I brought enough for a week with me. I thought that I might be detained two or three days, here, and be obliged to make the journey by land to Abu Hamed."
"I have not asked you what you were doing at this out of the way place, and how long you have been here."
"I only landed this morning. I came down to search for some relics. My father was on board Stewart's steamer, and as there would be nothing doing at Omdurman, for a few days, I got leave to run down. I was fortunate in securing a boat at Abu Hamed, on my arrival there; and I have been equally so, now, in having been picked up by you; so that I shall not be away from Omdurman more than seven days, if I have equal luck in getting a steamer at Atbara. I do not think I shall be disappointed, for the white troops are coming down, and stores are going up for the Egyptian brigade, so that I am certain not to be kept there many hours. The Sirdar has gone up to Fashoda, or I don't suppose I should have got leave."
"Yes. I heard at Merawi, from the officer in command, that some foreign troops had arrived there. I suppose nothing more is known about it?"
"No; no news will probably come down for another fortnight, perhaps longer than that."
"Who can they be?"
"The general idea is that they are French. They can only be French, or a party from the Congo States."
"They had tremendous cheek, whoever they are," the officer said. "It is precious lucky, for them, that we have given the Khalifa something else to think about, or you may be sure he would have wiped them out pretty quickly; unless they are a very strong force, which doesn't seem probable. I hear the Sirdar has taken a regiment up with him."
"Yes, but I don't suppose any actual move will be made, at present."
"No, I suppose it will be a diplomatic business. Still, I should think they would have to go."
"No one has any doubt about that, at Omdurman," Gregory said. "After all the expense and trouble we have had to retake the Soudan, it is not likely that we should let anyone else plant themselves on the road to the great lakes.
"When will you be at Abu Hamed, sir?"
"We shall be there about five o'clock–at any rate, I think you may safely reckon on catching the morning train. It goes, I think, at eight."
"I am sure to catch a train, soon, for orders have been sent down that railway materials shall be sent up, as quickly as possible; as it has been decided that the railway shall be carried on, at once, to Khartoum. I expect that, as soon as the Nile falls, they will make a temporary bridge across the Atbara."
It was six in the morning, when the steamer arrived at Abu Hamed. Gregory at once landed, paid his four men, went up to the little station; and, an hour later, was on his way to Atbara Fort. He had but two hours to wait there, and reached Omdurman at three o'clock, on the following afternoon. As he landed, he met an officer he knew.
"Is there any news?" he asked.
"Nothing but Fashoda is talked about. It has been ascertained that the force there is undoubtedly French. The betting is about even as to whether France will back down, or not. They have made it difficult for themselves, by an outburst of enthusiasm at what they considered the defeat of England. Well, of course, that does not go for much, except that it makes it harder for their government to give in."
"And has any news been received of the whereabouts of the Khalifa?"
"No. Broadwood, with two regiments of Egyptian cavalry and the camel corps, started in pursuit of the Khalifa and Osman, an hour after it was found that they had got away. Slatin Pasha went with them. But as the horses had been at work all day, they had to stop at half past eight. They could not then get down to the water, and bivouacked where they had halted. At four in the morning they started again, and at half past eight found a spot where they could get down to the river; then they rode fifteen miles farther.
"They were now thirty-five miles from Omdurman. One of the gunboats had gone up with supplies, but owing to the Nile having overflowed, could not get near enough to land them. Next morning they got news that the Khalifa was twenty-five miles ahead, and had just obtained fresh camels, so they were ordered to return to the town. They had picked up a good many of the fugitives, among them the Khalifa's favourite wife; who, doubtless with other women, had slipped away at one of his halting places, feeling unable to bear the constant fatigues and hardships of the flight in the desert.
"The cavalry have since been out again, but beyond the fact that the Khalifa had been joined by many of the fugitives from the battle, and was making for Kordofan, no certain news has been obtained. At present, nothing can be done in that direction.
"That horse you bought is all right."
"I really did not like taking him, for I already had one; and it looked almost like robbery, giving him two pounds for it, and the saddle."
"Others have done as well," the officer laughed. "One of the brigade staff bought a horse for a pound from Burleigh, who had given forty for it at Cairo. There was no help for it. They could not take horses down. Besides, it is not their loss, after all. The newspapers can afford to pay for them. They must have been coining money, of late."
"That reconciles me," Gregory laughed. "I did not think of the correspondents' expenses being paid by the papers."
"I don't know anything about their arrangements, but it stands to reason that it must be so, in a campaign like this. In an ordinary war, a man can calculate what his outlay might be; but on an expedition of this kind, no one could foretell what expenses he might have to incur.
"Besides, the Sirdar has saved the newspapers an enormous expenditure. The correspondents have been rigidly kept down to messages of a few hundred words; whereas, if they had had their own way, they would have sent down columns. Of course, the correspondents grumbled, but I have no doubt their employers were very well pleased, and the newspapers must have saved thousands of pounds, by this restriction."
"You are back sooner than I expected," General Hunter said, when Gregory went in and reported his arrival. "It is scarce a week since you left."
"Just a week, sir. Everything went smoothly, and I was but three or four hours at Hebbeh."
"And did you succeed in your search?"
"Yes, sir. I most fortunately found a man who had hidden a pocketbook he had taken from the body of one of the white men who were murdered there. There was nothing in it but old papers and, when Brackenbury's expedition approached, he had hidden it away; and did not give it a thought, until I enquired if he knew of any papers, and other things, connected with those on board the steamer. He at once took me to the place where he had hidden it, under a great stone, and it turned out to be the notebook and journals of my father; who was, as I thought possible, the white man who had arrived at Khartoum, a short time before the place was captured by the Dervishes, and who had gone down in the steamer that carried Colonel Stewart."
"Well, Hilliard," the General said, kindly, "even the certain knowledge of his death is better than the fear that he might be in slavery. You told me you had no remembrance of him?"
"None, sir; but of course, my mother had talked of him so often, and had several photographs of him–the last taken at Cairo, before he left–so that I almost seem to have known him. However, I do feel it as a relief to know that he is not, as I feared was remotely possible, a slave among the Baggara. But I think it is hard that, after having gone through two years of trials and sufferings, he should have been murdered on his way home."
"No doubt that is so. Have you read your father's diary, yet?"
"No, sir; I have not had the heart to do so, and shall put it off, until the shock that this has given me has passed away. I feel that a little hard work will be the best thing for me. Is there any chance of it?"
"You have just returned in time. I am going up the Blue Nile, tomorrow morning, to clear out the villages; which, no doubt, are all full of fugitives. I am glad that you have come back. I was speaking of you today to General Rundle, who is in command.
"One of the objects of the expedition is to prevent Fadil from crossing the river. He was advancing from Gedareh, at the head of ten thousand troops, to join the Khalifa; and was but forty miles away, on the day after we took this place; but when he received the news of our victory, he fell back. If he can cross, he will bring a very formidable reinforcement to the Khalifa.
"We know that Colonel Parsons started from Kassala, on the 7th, his object being to capture Gedareh, during the absence of Fadil. He is to cross the Atbara at El Fasher, and will then march up this bank of the river, till he is at the nearest point to Gedareh. It is probable that he will not strike across before the 18th, or the 20th. His force is comparatively small, and we do not know how large a garrison Fadil will have left there.
"Altogether, we are uneasy about the expedition. It is very desirable that Parsons should know that Fadil is retiring, and that, so far as we can learn from the natives, he has not yet crossed the Blue Nile. Gedareh is said to be a strong place, and once there, Parsons might hold it against Fadil until we can send him reinforcements.
"In order to convey this information to him, we require someone on whom we can absolutely rely. I said that, if you were here, I felt sure that you would volunteer for the service. Of course it is, to a certain extent, a dangerous one; but I think that, speaking the language as you do, and as you have already been among the Dervishes, you might, even if taken prisoner, make out a good story for yourself."
"I would undertake the commission, with pleasure," Gregory said. "I shall, of course, go in native dress."
"I propose that we carry you a hundred miles up the river, with us, and there land you. From that point, it would not be more than sixty or seventy miles across the desert to the Atbara, which you would strike forty or fifty miles above El Fasher. Of course you would be able to learn, there, whether Parsons had crossed. If he had, you would ride up the bank till you overtake him. If he had not, you would probably meet him at Mugatta. He must cross below that, as it is there he leaves the river."
"That seems simple enough, sir. My story would be that I was one of the Dervishes, who had escaped from the battle here; and had stopped at a village, thinking that I was safe from pursuit, until your boats came along; and that I then crossed the desert to go to Gedareh, where I thought I should be safe. That would surely carry me through. I shall want two fast camels–one for myself, and one for my boy."
"These we can get for you, from Abdul Azil, the Abadah sheik. Of course, you will put on Dervish robes and badges?"
"Yes, sir."
"I will go across and tell General Rundle, and obtain written instructions for you to carry despatches to Parsons. I will give them to you when you go up on the boat, in the morning. I will see at once about the camels, and ask the Intelligence people to get you two of the Dervish suits. You will also want rifles."
"Thank you, sir! I have a couple of Remingtons, and plenty of ammunition for them. I have two spears, also, which I picked up when we came in here."
"We are off again, Zaki," he said, when he returned to his hut; where the black was engaged in sweeping up the dust, and arranging everything as usual.
"Yes, master." Zaki suspended his work. "When do we go?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Do we take everything with us?"
"No. I start in uniform. We shall both want Dervish dresses, but you need not trouble about them–they will be got for us."
"Then we are going among the Dervishes, again?"
"Well, I hope we are not; but we may meet some of them. We are going with the expedition up the Blue Nile, and will then land and strike across the desert, to the Atbara. That is enough for you to know, at present. We shall take our guns and spears with us."
Zaki had no curiosity. If his master was going, it was of course all right–his confidence in him was absolute.
In about an hour, a native from the Intelligence Department brought down two Dervish dresses, complete. They had still three hours before mess, and Gregory sat down on his bed, and opened his father's pocketbook, which he had had no opportunity to do, since it came into his possession.
Chapter 17: A Fugitive
"I do not suppose," the diary began, "that what I write here will ever be read. It seems to me that the chances are immeasurably against it. Still, there is a possibility that it may fall into the hands of some of my countrymen when, as will surely be the case, the Mahdi's rebellion is crushed and order restored; and I intend, so long as I live, to jot down from time to time what happens to me, in order that the only person living interested in me, my wife, may possibly, someday, get to know what my fate has been. Therefore, should this scrap of paper, and other scraps that may follow it, be ever handed to one of my countrymen, I pray him to send it to Mrs. Hilliard, care of the manager of the Bank at Cairo.
"It may be that this, the first time I write, may be the last; and I therefore, before all things, wish to send her my heart's love, to tell her that my last thoughts and my prayers will be for her, and that I leave it entirely to her whether to return to England, in accordance with the instructions I left her before leaving, or to remain in Cairo.
"It is now five days since the battle. It cannot be called a battle. It was not fighting; it was a massacre. The men, after three days' incessant fighting, were exhausted and worn out, half mad with thirst, half mutinous at being brought into the desert, as they said, to die. Thus, when the Dervishes rushed down in a mass, the defence was feeble. Almost before we knew what had happened, the enemy had burst in on one side of the square. Then all was wild confusion–camels and Dervishes, flying Egyptians, screaming camp followers, were all mixed in confusion.
"The other sides of the square were also attacked. Some of our men were firing at those in their front, others turning round and shooting into the crowded mass in the square. I was with a black regiment, on the side opposite to where they burst in. The white officer who had been in command had fallen ill, and had been sent back, a few days after we left Khartoum; and as I had been, for weeks before that, aiding him to the best of my powers, and there were no other officers to spare, Hicks asked me to take his place. As I had done everything I could for the poor fellows' comfort, on the march; they had come to like me, and to obey my orders as promptly as those of their former commander.
"As long as the other two sides of the square stood firm, I did so; but they soon gave way. I saw Hicks, with his staff, charge into the midst of the Dervishes, and then lost sight of them. Seeing that all was lost, I called to my men to keep together, to march off in regular order, and repel all assaults, as this was the only hope there was of getting free.
"They obeyed my orders splendidly. Two or three times the Dervishes charged upon them, but the blacks were as steady as rocks, and their volleys were so fatal that the enemy finally left us alone, preferring to aid in the slaughter of the panic-stricken Egyptians, and to share the spoil.
"We made for the wells. Each man drank his fill. Those who had water bottles filled them. We then marched on towards El Obeid, but before nightfall the Dervish horse had closed up round us. At daylight their infantry had also arrived, and fighting began.
"All day we held our position, killing great numbers, but losing many men ourselves. By night, our water was exhausted. Then the soldiers offered to attack the enemy, but they were twenty to one against us, and I said to them, 'No, fight one day longer, if we can hold on. The Dervishes may retire, or they may offer us terms.'
"So we stood. By the next evening, we had lost half our number. After they had drawn off, one of the Dervish emirs came in with a white flag, and offered life to all who would surrender, and would wear the badge of the Mahdi, and be his soldiers. I replied that an answer should be given in the morning. When he had left, I gathered the men together.
"'You have fought nobly,' I said, 'but you have scarce a round of ammunition left. If we fight again tomorrow, we shall all be slaughtered. I thank you, in the name of the Khedive, for all that you have done; but I do not urge you to reject the terms offered. Your deaths would not benefit the Khedive. As far as I am concerned, you are free to accept the terms offered.'
"They talked for some time together, and then the three native officers who were still alive came forward.
"'Bimbashi,' they said, 'what will be done about you? We are Mahometans and their countrymen, but you are a white man and a Christian. You would not fight for the Mahdi?'
"'No,' I said, 'I would not fight for him, nor would I gain my life, at the price of being his slave. I wish you to settle the matter, without any reference to me. I will take my chance. I may not be here, in the morning. One man might escape, where many could not. All I ask is that I may not be watched. If in the morning I am not here, you can all say that I disappeared, and you do not know how. I do not, myself, know what I am going to do yet.'
"They went away, and in a quarter of an hour returned, and said that the men would surrender. If they had water and ammunition, they would go on fighting till the end; but as they had neither, they would surrender.
"I felt that this was best. The Soudanese love battle, and would as readily fight on one side as on the other. They have done their duty well to the Khedive, and will doubtless fight as bravely for the Mahdi.
"The men lay in a square, as they had fought, with sentries placed to warn them, should the Dervishes make a night attack. British troops would have been well-nigh maddened with thirst, after being twenty-four hours without water, and fighting all day in the blazing sun, but they felt it little. They were thirsty, but in their desert marches they are accustomed to thirst, and to hold on for a long time without water.
"I was better off, for I had drunk sparingly, the day before, from my water bottle; and had still a draught left in it. I waited until I thought that the men were all asleep; then I stripped, and stained myself from head to foot. I had carried stain with me, in case I might have to go out as a native, to obtain information. In my valise I had a native dress, and a native cloth, in which I could have passed as a peasant, but not as one of the Baggara. However, I put it on, passed through the sleeping men, and went up to a sentry.
"'You know me,' I said. 'I am your Bimbashi. I am going to try and get through their lines; but if it is known how I have escaped, I shall be pursued and slain. Will you swear to me that, if you are questioned, you will say you know nothing of my flight?'
"'I swear by the beard of the Prophet,' the man said. 'May Allah protect you, my lord!'
"Then I went on. The night was fairly dark and, as the Dervishes were nearly half a mile away, I had no fear of being seen by them. There were many of their dead scattered about, seventy or eighty yards from our square. I had, all along, felt convinced that it would be impossible to pass through their lines; therefore I went to a spot where I had noticed that a number had fallen, close together, and went about examining them carefully. It would not have done to have chosen the dress of an emir, as his body might have been examined, but the ordinary dead would pass unnoticed.
"I first exchanged the robe for one marked with the Mahdi's patches. It was already smeared with blood. I then carried the body of the man whose robe I had taken off, for some distance. I laid him down on his face, thinking that the absence of the patches would not be seen. Then I crawled some thirty or forty yards nearer to the Dervishes, so that it would seem that I had strength to get that far, before dying. Then I lay down, partly on my side, so that the patches would show, but with my face downwards on my arm.
"I had, before dyeing my skin, cut my hair close to my head, on which I placed the Dervish's turban. The only property that I brought out with me was a revolver, and this pocketbook. Both of these I buried in the sand; the pocketbook a short distance away, the pistol lightly covered, and within reach of my hand, so that I could grasp it and sell my life dearly, if discovered.
"Soon after daylight I heard the triumphant yells of the Dervishes, and knew that my men had surrendered. Then there was a rush of horse and foot, and much shouting and talking. I lifted my head slightly, and looked across. Not a Dervish was to be seen in front of me.
"I felt that I had better move, so, taking up my pistol and hiding it, I crawled on my hands and knees to the spot where I had hidden this book; and then got up on to my feet, and staggered across the plain, as if sorely wounded, and scarcely able to drag my feet along. As I had hoped, no one seemed to notice me, and I saw three or four other figures, also making their way painfully towards where the Dervishes had encamped.
"Here were a few camels, standing untended. Everyone had joined in the rush for booty–a rush to be met with bitter disappointment, for, with the exception of the arms of the fallen, and what few valuables they might have about their person, there was nothing to be gained. I diverged from the line I had been following, kept on until there was a dip in the ground, that would hide me from the sight of those behind; then I started to run, and at last threw myself down in the scrub, four or five miles away from the point from which I had started.
"I was perfectly safe, for the present. The Dervishes were not likely to search over miles of the desert, dotted as it was with thick bushes. The question was as to the future. My position was almost as bad as could be. I was without food or water, and there were hundreds of miles of desert between me and Khartoum. At every water hole I should, almost certainly, find parties of Dervishes.
"From time to time I lifted my head, and saw several large parties of the enemy, moving in the distance. They were evidently bound on a journey, and were not thinking of looking for me. I chewed the sour leaves of the camel bush; and this, to some extent, alleviated my thirst.
